


Rust and salt

by Silential



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:51:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5810728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silential/pseuds/Silential
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rey loves fixing things, and Luke clearly hasn't been taking very good care of that hand. In exchange for progress with her training, he reluctantly allows her to fix the damage he's stubbornly and self-flagellatingly suffered through for so long. Even so, it's... intimate. She can feel through the force how he feels when she touches him, how he trusts her but is still tense at the intrusion. </p><p>She starts to wonder what it would feel like to touch other parts of his body, the human parts, when his mind was open to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There should be several chapters after this, as Rey works to fix his hand and tear down some walls while she does. 
> 
> It's not explicit just yet, but it will be.

“No.” His voice was firm, and the end of his staff hits her, right in the gut. She’d been distracted, albeit deservedly, she thought, but it doesn’t dull the sting. “Absolutely not.” 

Straightening, Rey massaged the hidden bloom of a bruise with one hand while planting her staff in the dirt with another. His followed suit, sinking slowly towards the hard-packed dirt at their feet. “Why not? It can’t be functioning properly – just look at it. I saw decades old equipment in about the same shape.”

If Luke – Master Luke, she mentally corrected herself, though it never felt quite right – were one to smile more, she might have expected one. As it was his lips twitched as if considering it. “This _is _decades old equipment.”__

Her mouth thinning into a line, she leaned a little more heavily into her staff. The rough wood had become familiar against her hand these past weeks, but her fingers still itched for the cool touch of metal in this place of rock and sand. “If you won’t let me fix it, can I at least examine it?” 

She watched as his fingers drummed against his sparring staff, the metal clicking in a way she knew meant something was catching where it wasn’t supposed to. Jerking her head towards the sound, Rey could only mutter, “See?”

“Fine. You may examine it.” 

A warm rush of relief washed over, and Rey let out a breath she hadn’t really known she’d been holding. “Thank you.” 

She watched as his head tilted ever so slightly, and then, “… if you earn it.”

“What do I need to do?”

“You’ll find a pile of stones at a terrace midway down the hill. You will bring them to the top one by one and successfully stack them.” 

Right. Sure. Hard labor was nothing new, and her feet cared little about the distinction between a rocky cliff-face and the side of a crashed Imperial destroyer. If it meant she got a chance to examine that hand, she’d bring a hundred rocks up the hillside. Nodding resolutely, Rey turned and headed for the path down the cliff-face. This would be what, an hour, maybe two? 

“Oh, and Rey?” She turned over her shoulder, meeting Luke’s eyes and not missing the tinge of humor in his voice. “That will be stacking them with the Force, not by hand.”

She sighed, her mental daydream of rooting through her toolkit dimming by degrees. “Of course, Master Luke.”

\-----------------------------------  
As it was, there were a good number of stones, and any structure she forced them into tended to collapse before she was finished. Days, not hours, were the currency of this task, and it wasn’t until sundown on the fourth day that she placed the crowning stone. It hadn’t rested for more than a moment before she was off and running, heading into the tiny cottage Luke called home. She found him setting out two bowls – a simple broth, as always, with whatever vegetables the garden could provide – and couldn’t help the way a smile lit up her face. 

“I’ve done it. They’re stacked.”

Pulling out the chair with his good hand, she couldn’t deny the way he fell almost wearily into it. He picked up his spoon – _click click _– and stirred the bowl’s still steaming contents. “Very good, Rey.”__

Her feet carried her quickly from the doorway to the small table, and she leaned over it to better peer into his eyes. His brow seemed heavy, for whatever reason, half-hidden by the grey-streaked hair he only sporadically remembered to cut. “When may I see it?” 

“After we eat, it’s not going anywhere.” His voice was soft, punctuated by a flick of his spoon towards the other chair. “Sit. Patience is a friend.”

Rey snorted at that, not missing the way he raised an eyebrow. Patience, as if she could summon a shred of it with the prospect of inspecting the only complex machinery within a light year of this gods-drowned planet so near. Still, not wanting to push her luck, she sank into the opposing chair and drew the bowl closer. It was more or less the same simple meal morning, noon, and night, and while she had the suspicion Luke may have been using such asceticism as a means of self-punishment, Rey was merely thankful for the presence of three meals at all. With Luke unusually silent, his gaze having lowered to fix on a point in his bowl as if it might suddenly reveal crucial knowledge of the Force, Rey tucked into her soup with gusto. 

She finished long before him, resisting the urge to lift the bowl to her lips to sip the last few mouthfuls. Instead she sat as quiet as possible, fidgeting with her hands and stealing glances whenever she felt he wasn’t looking. Their meals were not usually so awkward, and it prickled her skin even as excitement fluttered her heart. 

Luke finished in his own time, replacing his spoon in the bowl and pushing both to the side. Reluctance rolled off him in waves, and it seemed to take forever for him to extend his right arm for her inspection. He cleared his throat, fingers curling and uncurling slightly; she could barely hear his murmur. “As promised, Rey – for a few minutes, at least.” 

Biting her lip, Rey brought her hands to cradle his, moving slowly and carefully as she raised it slightly towards her face. She and Luke didn’t often touch outside of sparring; he was too reserved for that. So to feel his hand in hers now, no matter its lack of flesh, was… more intimate than intended. 

Mind shying away from such thoughts, Rey focused instead on the machine aspect of it. The metal was cool and almost delicate, a little rusted after so long exposed to the elements. A few of the bolts definitely needed to be replaced, or at the very least tightened. Manipulating the joints gently, she had to wonder at his grip strength, and decides after a moment of inspection that it’s probably been compromised. The model wasn’t meant to operate with solely the skeleton, and the years exposed to salt, sand, and rock have taken their toll on the system. And here, she saw with a light touch, a wire was frayed. Granted, Rey didn’t know exactly what it did, but she was confident that if he let her, she would find out. 

A scavenger’s eyes honed in on metal parts, reflexively cataloging and assessing their value. Rey figured she’d have gotten upwards of fifty portions for a working prosthetic, even one in so bad a condition. After all, one of the scavengers had forcibly lifted a prosthetic off a trader and gotten a hundred – though that had been with flesh still attached. Her mind stuttering to a halt, she shoved that sort of thinking back into the dark recesses of her mind where it belonged. This was his hand, not an item to be bartered. 

If he felt what was in her mind, Luke gave no sign. His face revealed little of his own thoughts when she glanced upwards, but it didn’t tax her own ability to sense the insecurity, confusion. 

Thumb drawing along the palm of his hand, she swirled her fingertip against his own. Scratches in the metal tugged at her skin. “You don’t feel that at all, do you? These sensory nerve units are fried.” 

It was phrased as a question, but it didn’t have to be, and his silence was the only answer she needed. Sucking in a breath, Rey felt the flash of a memory, insubstantial but somehow more than enough. She blistered with the pain radiating through his hand and forearm as the nerves died, Luke in agony for who knows how long until they finally, finally shorted out. Blissfully ceasing the pain, yes, but with it all the sensation she couldn’t dream of living without. Horror nearly choked her. 

Ignoring the images in her head, he replied dryly, as if nothing had happened, “I hadn’t noticed.”

Her mouth opened, but it took a moment for her voice to grind through the unshed tears stuck in her throat. “You need to let me fix them, Luke. You’re lucky you still have motor control. Close your fist.” 

He dutifully responded, and her fingers followed his own, the pinky trailing behind. Click click click. “Look,” she pointed out, trying to ignore the pricking feeling behind her eyes, “you’re already losing it.”

“And if I lose it entirely, then I’ll do something. The rest is unneeded.” Retracting his hand from her grip, Luke placed it in his lap. Still as low as ever, his voice carried an edge she hadn’t heard before, and one she couldn’t place. 

There was more to this than he was letting on, Rey knew, and she could begin to guess what. Never one to lose, not something this important, Rey decided to change tactics. Swallowing thickly, she fixed her gaze on the man sitting before her; he had to see reason. “It’s a liability. How can you teach me if you can’t use your hand properly?” 

He frowned, lines deepening around his mouth. She had him there, she knew, as her training wasn't something he could afford to take lightly. As if plucking the thought from her mind, and maybe indeed he had, she could feel duty and reluctance warring in the air between them. “Alright, Rey. If you make satisfactory progress, I will let you ‘fix’ me.”

His aura softening against the leading edge of her mind, his words dropped like water into her waiting palms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working on a hand was nothing like working on droids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this and continued to enjoy this!

Rey was rather pleased, if she could admit it to herself. 

Refreshed by the sun spearing through the ever-present morning fog, Rey had lifted two separate objects at the same time earlier that afternoon. Stones again of course, covered in moss and raining a light shower of dirt from where they hovered a hand and a half from the ground, but she couldn’t have been prouder. Luke had been able to witness her achievement this time too, kneeling solemnly a pace or two behind her. His steady stream of advice and encouragement, not entirely spoken aloud, had broken over her like the surf, ebbing and flowing into her consciousness with a calming periodicity she was sure must have been intentional. Whatever the reason, it had certainly helped, and a grin had pulled at her lips the moment she’d felt both stones return to the ground. 

Turning over her shoulder, Rey couldn’t help but laugh. Her fingers already itched to begin their work. “You know what I’m going to ask, Luke.”

“And you know what I’m going to say.” Luke stood slowly, the rough-hewn wool at his knees black from many days spent meditating on the ground. He didn’t seem to notice the mud still clinging there, merely inclining his head in respect and replying, “Tonight.”

_Tonight _. It seemed like such a long time to wait, with the sun only just past its zenith in the sky. Still – his hand, his rules.__

__Pushing herself off the muddy ground, with a second spared to wipe her hands on the back of her trousers, Rey wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. Normally the afternoons found them engrossed in meditation, sitting side by side on the hilltop as the birds circled overhead. “So should I meditate until supper then?”_ _

__His reply came quick, “With how excited you are? No I think not.” Something like a chuckle ran fast on its heels, or at least it would have if she thought him capable. As it was, it was too harsh to be called one. His metal fingers idly righted the vest that had somehow come askew, and he refused to meet her eyes. “I’ll begin teaching you the next form.”_ _

__Her brows shot skyward. “So soon? We just learned the last one.”_ _

__“Yes, well…” Vest apparently in place, Luke made for their sparring poles, leaning in their usual way against a high outcropping of rock. He tossed hers. “You have a lot to learn. And, it might teach you to keep your mind on the present.”_ _

__She caught the staff easily, shaking her head. Her entire life had been spent focusing on the glimmer of the future rather than the harsh glare of the present, and look what heights that had let her climb. “Oh come on, excitement is wonderful. So is anticipation.”_ _

__“I never said it wasn’t.” He assumed the stance that began the first form, one leg slightly in front of the other and staff held easily before him. “Just know that sometimes, you should enjoy your current success for what it is, not what it will be.”_ _

__Rey mirrored his actions, breath coming slow and deep. “I always do.”_ _

__“Good,” Luke angled his staff backward, shifting his feet with the movement, “because the future will be much darker.”_ _

__\-----_ _

__Although she hadn’t expected it upon seeing his home for the first time, Luke did indeed possess a tool kit. For as he’d said, _just like a droid, you never know when you’re going to need it _. The mismatched collection wasn’t as specialized as she would have liked, but by supplementing with the supplies she’d taken from the Falcon, the end result wasn’t half-bad.___ _

____It would have to do._ _ _ _

____Pushing back from the table, bare except for the usual two bowls, Rey murmured her intent to return and padded into the cramped small room she’d claimed as hers. The steel box stood guard next to her pallet like an old friend. She hadn't forgotten how heavy it had been to drag it into the room, and it proved as heavy to drag it out again. Still, she managed to reach the table with a little effort, and promptly fell into her chair. The hinges squealed as she unlatched the lid._ _ _ _

____Grabbing a few of the tools she knew were definitely necessary, Rey placed them gingerly on the table. She couldn't keep the smile off of her face, and hoped it was doing something to alleviate his worry. It was bad enough that a small voice in the back of her head questioned if she was good enough; she didn’t need his own trepidation feeding into it._ _ _ _

____“Are you ready?”_ _ _ _

____His next question came easily and without malice, but it still caused her to start. “Have you ever done this before?”_ _ _ _

____“Well,” she admitted, “technically no. But I’ve worked on droids all my life and I’ve been stitching myself up for just as long too.”_ _ _ _

____Rey felt more than saw his wince, a latent anger she knew wasn’t directed at her, and rushed to explain, “I did a lot of climbing, and for awhile, a lot of falling. Metal isn’t too forgiving when you land on it.” She conveniently left out the struggles with other scavengers, the ragged and dirty fights over loot that had forced the constant presence of the double-edged staff on her back._ _ _ _

____If he felt the omission or saw her thoughts, Luke didn’t comment on them, merely murmuring, “No, I suppose not.”_ _ _ _

____Gingerly, Luke extended his arm for her inspection once more, using his other hand to push his sleeve far enough upwards to expose the full length of the prosthetic. It stretched halfway up his forearm, a fact she hadn’t fully grasped the other night during her examination. One glance was enough to reveal that the top portion was in as sorry shape as the bottom._ _ _ _

____Rey carefully took hold of his hand, spreading his fingers wide as she mentally planned out a map of how this was going to go. As cavalier as she had been in her assurances, working on a hand was nothing like working on droids. Nerves plucked at her heart, leaving it thumping behind her ribs, but she swallowed what anxiety she could at the trusting way he’d offered himself._ _ _ _

____Metal was metal, and circuits were circuits. She could do this._ _ _ _

____\---------_ _ _ _

____The blasted man never let her work very long._ _ _ _

____Whether it was because he wanted to draw out her motivation for training, or simply couldn’t take her poking around where she shouldn’t be, Luke always made sure to cut it short far sooner than she liked. Granted, Rey wasn’t exactly sure what would count as long enough for her, but that was beside the point. It sent her stomach sinking every time he signaled the end of that night’s endeavors, the ‘that’s quite enough for now, Rey’ enough to have her groaning._ _ _ _

____Still, somehow, she was making progress – both with training, and with his hand._ _ _ _

____It had seemed most logical to begin with structural defects while his nerves were still fried. Free anesthesia, she’d quipped, and reveled a little in the soft laugh coaxed by her words. In her careful study, she’d noted that damaged tendons kept him from being able to completely close or outstretch his fingers. By the end of a few nights of work he was flexing and folding, flexing and folding, and damn if she wasn’t the tiniest bit pleased with herself when she saw him grip a lightsaber._ _ _ _

____The smile on his face, the first few slivers of desert sun that cut through the bone-cold night, told her all she needed to know. It warmed her in a way she couldn’t explain, digging deep into her chest and curling there for a moment._ _ _ _

____Eight days after she first went to work, there was only one major tendon still seriously compromised. For whatever reason, he’d let her labor a little longer than normal today, her head bent low over his hand as they talked. They had been trading tales of X-wing pilots, and if she’d learned anything it was how thirty years could pass and they never seemed to change._ _ _ _

____Picking up a screwdriver, Rey cautiously pushed it through the mess of wires contained in the heart of his wrist. She'd awoken earlier than the sun that morning without meaning to, and had spent the time until daybreak idly pondering what little history she had been able to catch up on in the Rebel base's computers. One file had stuck out in particular, and she remembered looping it continuously, trying to absorb every detail. Even now Rey could see it in her mind's eye. A little hesitatingly, she said, “I saw a holovid of you in the Resistance archives.”_ _ _ _

____“Oh?” He inquired dispassionately, at odds with the almost joviality of their story swapping before. His eyes fixed upon the subtle turns of the tool in her grasp, and she noted with a bit of surprise that his emotions no longer lapped at the edge of her consciousness. They were muted, as if behind a fogged-over pane of glass._ _ _ _

____Too deep to back out, Rey did as she always did and plunged blindly ahead. “Yes, taken after you blew up the Death Star, I think. You were wearing a pilot’s uniform. I thought you were... very handsome.”_ _ _ _

____Her face felt hot at the admission in a way she wouldn't have predicted, the second half of it catching in her head. But her resolve was firm, and she didn't see the harm in saying anything. It was a compliment, wasn't it? He deserved to hear it, especially after so long alone._ _ _ _

____“I see.” There was an echo of something in his voice, though she couldn’t quite place it. Rey took a breath, and raised her gaze to his._ _ _ _

____“You still are.”_ _ _ _

She barely had enough time to remove the screwdriver before he was pulling his arm back towards himself. Rey sent a split-second prayer to anything that might be listening that he hadn't dislodged anything. Luke cleared his throat, managing, "I think that's -"

" - quite enough for today, Rey," she finished. 

No, working on hands was definitely nothing like working on a droid.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Luke's POV. Sorry for the wait! And thank you to everyone who has been reading, kudos-ing, and commenting!

They probably required another lantern. 

Warm, diffuse light bathed her face, leaving black pools around her eyes and casting long shadows of two bent figures upon the wall. The pools evaporated as the lantern slowly migrated closer from its place at the end of the table, inching forward every few minutes with the barest inclination of her head. She didn’t even have to look at it to exert her will, Luke noted, and he couldn’t deny the rush of pride he felt at how far she had come. Still, he could sense her dissatisfaction with the illumination it provided, a vague sort of itch that manifested itself in the back of his mind. A far cry from the blinding, sterile luminescence of a med-bay, it was all he had to offer her. 

More shadows than light, a rusted hand. A broken man. That was his lot in life. He wanted to keep it from becoming hers too.

The barrier he’d set in place two nights before still held strong, dulling the two-way communication into a mild, nondescript hum. If at first he had raised the shield to dull the sense of loss at the reminder of happier days, that wasn’t the reason he had kept it. 

_You still are_. 

Even now, his eyes slammed shut at the memory, as if that would be enough to block it out. He’d wanted to deny it, to joke that the years had taken their toll, but Luke wasn’t a man of self-delusions. He knew that in any denial would be hidden the words, _No, Rey, I’m not that good man anymore,_ and she would hear them clear as day. It was bad enough that he knew it, and while it was only a matter of time before she did as well, he wanted to savor this – this, whatever it was, as long as he could. 

So he had kept his refutations to himself, and instead the warmth in her gaze had hooked into him, gouging into a soft place he had thought long worn away by the tides. His arm had pulled away seemingly of its own accord, and if he’d torn a wire in doing so, she hadn’t remarked upon it the following night. 

He couldn’t entertain any ideas, however he may have wanted to. Let her think kindly of him for a little while longer, he prayed, before he inevitably failed her like he’d failed everyone else. 

And yet, something still lied buried in his chest, deep and aching. 

It felt a lot like hope. 

Grateful that she wasn’t strong enough yet to see through his walls, Luke gripped the hard wood of the table with his free hand. If she noticed the tension in his other forearm, a few inches above where she currently worked, Luke hoped she chalked it up to his general discomfort and nothing more. He had to acknowledge it was a small blessing that Rey hadn’t touched the sensory nerve controls yet. Nearly three weeks had been sunk into repair work, and sitting night after night with his hand cradled within her own had been nigh unbearable even without the added sensation. 

Fingers unconsciously sweeping against touch-dead metal, she peered over it and drew his hand slowly upwards until it was only a hair’s breadth from her face. He hadn’t felt such intense scrutiny in over a decade, and the feeling both made him want to recoil and proffer himself for more. Amazingly, however, he convinced his body to do neither. 

Observing her, pensive and focused, Luke forced himself to breathe. 

During the daylight hours he watched her soar, awareness pushing ever farther around her as she grew in prowess, in confidence. He recalled his own sighs of impossibility in a swamp long forgotten by the universe, the urge to admit defeat a recurrent foe throughout his life. It had found him again in the end, of course, and had remained, an old twisted friend on this barren rock. 

Only Rey didn’t seem to share… any of that. 

If he gave Rey a task, she completed it. Head down, feet moving, mind singular and sharp. If he set her a goal, she met it. It might require longer than she desired, but she worked, tirelessly and single-mindedly, until it had been reached. If he’d have known she would redouble her efforts with her training, Luke might have considered making her the offer to repair his prosthetic the moment she stepped foot on his planet. That was, of course, a _might have_. 

The silence dragged on, the stillness broken only by the slight rocking motion she was making with his hand as she scrutinized it closely. This way, then that, that way, then this. Luke tried to sound less perturbed than he was. “Is everything alright?”

Rey visibly twitched at his comment, allowing their hands to sink slowly away from the tip of her slim nose. “Yes, actually. Structurally, it looks… great.”

“That’s fantastic.” 

He watched as her expression fell slightly, and winced at how cold he must have sounded. Squeezing her fingers lightly, not ignorant of the fact that _he could actually squeeze_ , he couldn’t help but imagine he could almost feel the heat there. Wanting to assure her, Luke added, “I mean it, Rey. Fantastic work.”

A grin slowly unfolded upon her lips, eyes crinkling. It lit up her face in a way he’d forgotten smiles could. “Now it’s time for the nerves.” 

Swallowing, he made to pull his hand away. “Another night for that, I think.”

Within seconds, her smile crumpled in upon itself, and he had the distinct impression of a sun drained by a black hole. Rey caught his hand before he could pull away this time, grip stronger than usual. Her words were soft, but it was her eyes which did most of the pleading. “Please, I just want to see if it works. Let me repair a finger – half a finger, even.”

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off, going right for what she no doubt believed his throat, “Just think what it will be like to _feel_ again. Textures and temperatures, surely you must miss it.” 

It wasn’t what she meant, but he couldn’t help but think that to feel again would be to imply he had _stopped_ , and – as he took in the sight of her face, grave and earnest and so very open – he had to concede that he never truly did. For a moment he considered lowering his barriers, but thought better of it. He felt no pleasure in dashing her hopes, and to let her feel what was brewing inside his chest would only frighten her away. No, the barriers would have to stay. 

Luke grimaced, tension leaving his arm and hand.

Unaware of his thoughts, she took his relaxation as a victory, thumbs rubbing against the top components as her smile slowly bloomed again. The shift in his body language seemed to mollify her for the time being. 

“I knew you couldn’t resist,” she shared almost conspiratorially. “I don’t know how you did it for so long.”

Still all too aware of the tight hold she kept of his hand, he casually replied, “I managed.” 

“Hardly managed, more like,” Rey rejoined, finally letting go and leaning down towards the box at her feet, “you have to admit how much easier everything is for you now since we started.” 

She was right, of course, he’d gradually changed how he did most of everything as his hand had deteriorated. It almost felt unnatural now to have the full use of both. 

“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that.”

“Really? Because that’s not what I feel when you hold a light-saber. Or when you trusted your hand enough yesterday to cut your hair.” She paused in her search, briefly casting her attention back to him. Her gaze fell back to the toolkit as she added, “It looks much better, by the way.”

Raising a brow, Luke refused to allow himself to feel any pleasure at the statement. “Are you saying it looked bad before?”

Her head snapped upwards, and her mouth fell open, closed, and opened again. He’d seen fish out of water make much the same expression, though certainly never so becomingly. “No. It looked – you looked – fine. More than fine.”

“It’s okay,” Luke sighed, “you can tell your teacher he looked like a nerf-herder.” 

Confusion knitted her brow. “What’s a nerf-herder?”

He actually had to laugh at that, gesturing back at the toolkit. “Something you should ask my sister the next time you see her. But for now, let’s get on with it.” 

With a shrug, she went back to rummaging through the pitiful selection, until one after another, instruments found their way to the table. A pair of pliers, a soldering iron, loops of insulated and non-insulated wire – they kept coming until she had amassed quite a collection of odds and ends. 

“You’re going to need all of this?”

“I’m not really sure. But I wanted them handy in case I do.” 

Luke hadn’t had any reason to doubt the quality of her work thus far, but the way nerve work began might have given him second thoughts had it come first. She would start, looping little threads of wire carefully into the scaffold of his palm, then stop, start again, only to stop and move onto a different section of his wrist. One twist of the screwdriver here, a quick shot of the soldering gun there – nearly an hour had passed and his touch was still dead. 

“I have to do these in a specific order, I think. The connections are… not immediately clear, and a lot of them are broken.” Rey explained sheepishly. “But I think I may have your index finger figured out. Half of it, anyway.”

Enthused by the prospect, even despite himself, Luke could only motion for her to continue. 

He wasn’t quite expecting her wince. “Sorry about this.”

“Sorry about –“ 

She turned the screwdriver, and dull pain flooded through his fingertip, as if left too long in the cold. 

“Ah.”

“It will pass after a moment. I think.” 

Thankfully it did after a minute or two, and they both stared at the slim metal beam, she in wonder, he in guarded anticipation. Nothing visibly had changed, and yet, so much had. He might say the same about more than merely his hand. 

When her finger gently ghosted over the tip of his, a caress almost lighter than air, Luke knew she did not miss his shiver.


End file.
